With the clock suddenly ticking down very rapidly to his departure, Harry was determined to make the most of Seren Du before he left. He had a bit of a panic at the start — so many things he wanted to do, and so little time left! — but he figured it out pretty quickly. He could fly at the Burrow, even if it wouldn't be on a proper half-pitch. The pool, the library, and the company were the things he would miss the most.
He also sent Artemis off with a round of letters for all the friends he couldn't send Hedwig to, explaining he was being moved to somewhere his mail would be monitored and he'd see them back at school. Luckily, that was only a couple of weeks away. He'd hate to be out of contact with Draco for much longer than that. Ever since the visit, Artemis had been run ragged flying back and forth between them.
The three adults had decided to wrap up Harry's lessons for the summer, since he'd be leaving soon anyway. Harry was actually a little sad about it. Currently, he was sat in Snape's potions lab, helping finish off a batch of Skele-Gro that would be going to the Hogwarts hospital wing ready for the new school term. "With that bloody tournament, we'll probably need plenty of it," Snape had muttered derisively.
Setting the potion aside to cool, Harry looked up at his professor cautiously. "That's all done, then?" Snape nodded.
"Once it's cooled, I'll bottle it and send it to the school." He checked some notes on a piece of parchment tacked to his desk; Pomfrey's order list, from what Harry could gather. "Now that I've seen you're a perfectly competent brewer, I'll expect your grades to improve in my class, Mr Potter."
Harry sent him a light glare. "I'm sure they would if my professor didn't hate me, and the Slytherins didn't sabotage me."
"From the looks of things, you've got half the Slytherins wrapped around your little finger," Snape retorted, making Harry blush. "And you are aware that I will have to keep up appearances. I shall endeavour not to harm your potions, and I will mark you as fairly as I can, but there are people on both sides watching me, Potter, and I must maintain a certain level of… spite in your direction."
"I expected as much," Harry said with a shrug. It really wouldn't be much different to previous years. He could handle it. "But, sir, before we reach that point… I just wanted to say thank you, for everything you've done for me over the summer. You didn't have to spend time teaching me. I'm well aware that you're here because Moony is, not for me or Sirius. I just— you didn't have to be nice to me, but you were. So, thanks," he finished awkwardly. Snape was silent for a minute.
"I daresay Remus would have been quite unimpressed with me had I treated you here as I treat you at school," he said eventually. "Nonetheless, I find that without certain… external influences, you are not a terrible student, Mr Potter. Still unfailingly Gryffindor, but that appears to be the life I have chosen for myself." This came with a long-suffering sigh that made Harry laugh.
"You know the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?" he said, watching Snape's dark eyebrows rise.
"What a disaster that would have been. Dumbledore might have had a stroke on the spot." Snape turned to Harry, looking him over appraisingly. "I have hope that between myself and Draco, we'll be able to make enough of a Slytherin out of you for you to survive in this world. Rest assured, Mr Potter; while we may have started off on the wrong foot, we are on the same side now." He strode towards the door, beckoning Harry to follow. "As we still have some time before dinner, I would like you to follow me to the parlour. I wish to check your Occlumency shields one last time before you face the headmaster."
Harry nodded, and the pair of them went upstairs to the empty parlour. Harry took a seat, knowing he would need it if Snape was about to be as ruthless as he feared.
The Slytherin didn't give Harry time to prepare; as soon as they made eye contact, he was working away at Harry's shields. Harry kept his breathing steady and his mental defences tight, unsure how long he sat there for. Snape tried everything; brute force, sneaking through cracks, even trying to convince Harry that he'd disappeared, only to try and creep in when he let his guard down. Through it all, Harry refused to let him in. Eventually, the attack ceased, for real this time.
"Very good, Potter," Snape said with an approving nod. "You should be able to withstand any discreet attempts at entering your mind. Should the headmaster wish to put in any more force than that, it'll be obvious to you and also any bystanders, and I believe if it ever gets to that point you will have bigger things to worry about." He looked at Harry with a serious expression. "Make sure you have your shields up at all times, especially if you're in large crowds or around the headmaster. Eventually it will become second nature, but at first it may get exhausting."
"I'll do my best," Harry promised. "Thank you for helping me with this, Professor." He'd made more progress in the last month and a half than he had in the entire nine months he'd been working on it by himself.
"You're welcome, Potter. You're free to go."
Nodding in thanks, Harry got to his feet, leaving the parlour with his hands in his pockets. Now, how to spend the rest of his day… perhaps he'd set a few parting pranks for his beloved godfather.
.-.-.-.
All too soon, it was Saturday night. Harry's school trunk was packed and ready, after a long, drawn-out selection process of his bookshelves, which culminated in Remus promising to send him any books he left behind if he decided he wanted them. It was a refreshing concept for Harry, having a bedroom he could leave stuff in during the school year without worrying about any of it being broken or stolen or thrown out. Having enough things that he couldn't fit them all in his school trunk.
Harry was about as ready as he could be, and was lying in bed listening to some quiet music on his Wireless when there was a knock on the door. He turned off the Wireless, calling for whoever it was to enter. Sirius slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him, and turned to Harry with a sad sort-of smile on his face. "Mind if I join you?"
Harry patted the mattress beside him, and Sirius clambered up onto the bed, leaning against the headboard with his shoulder bumping Harry's. "All set, then?" he asked, his gaze landing on Harry's trunk.
"I think so. Moony said he could send anything I'd forgotten over with Snape." He bit his lip. "Are you ready? For me to leave?" It was weighing on his mind, the prospect of school starting up; he would be gone, Snape would soon be gone, and Remus wouldn't want to spend all his time away from his partner.
It meant that there were times Sirius would be alone in the house. After being in Azkaban, Sirius didn't do well being alone. "Don't worry about me, Harry," he insisted. "I'll be fine. I've got Buckbeak, and Ceri. And Moony's promised me he won't be gone more than two evenings a week." He shrugged. "Gotta get used to being by myself eventually, right? Can't expect you lot to babysit me forever."
"We're not babysitting you, Sirius," Harry scolded lightly. "This has been the best summer ever."
"It has been pretty great, hasn't it?" Sirius agreed. "I'm glad I was able to give you that. I wish I could give you the world, Pup, but this is a good start." The man sighed, running a hand through his dark hair and turning to Harry. "I've been reliably informed that I can't keep you hidden away here forever, so for your old godfather's sake, please look after yourself in the big scary outside world?" His words were playful but his eyes were serious, and Harry chuckled.
"You're not old, Sirius, you're thirty-four."
"Thirty-five in November!" Sirius yelped. It was clear he thought that was akin to turning a hundred.
"Exactly, you're barely a quarter of the way into your life, for a wizard."
"You're missing my point," Sirius retorted, aware he'd lost that particular argument. "Be careful, okay? Voldemort isn't the only enemy you have anymore. Dumbledore wants you for his weapon — exactly how, we can only guess, but it's clear he doesn't care about you past how you factor into his grand plan. If he knows you're starting to mess with that plan, you're in deep trouble. There's going to be a lot going on at the school this year, and I need you to be safe."
"I won't go looking for trouble, Sirius," Harry said. His godfather's expression was doubtful. "I mean it! I can't promise trouble won't find me, but I'll try my best to stay away from it. And Dumbledore."
"I suppose that's all I can ask." Sirius reached into the pocket of his robe, pulling out a small round mirror in a black frame. "I want you to have this. It's a two-way mirror; your dad and I used to use them all the time. I've got the other one — just say my name into the mirror, and mine will vibrate, and then we can talk to each other."
"Or you can call me if you're lonely and need someone to talk to when Remus is with Snape," Harry realised. He took the mirror, running his fingers over the surface. It was only the size of his hand, but he'd easily be able to keep it with him in his school robes. "This is brilliant!"
"If you ever need to talk, about anything — the headmaster, your classes, romantic advice," he wiggled his eyebrows and Harry made a face, "I'm always here for you. Okay?"
"I'll call. At least once a week," Harry promised. It would be much easier than sending an owl.
"And if you need someone in person, go to Snape. He's still a greasy git, but I guess he's family now." Sirius grumbled, but Harry knew better; his godfather was delighted Remus was happy and in love. Even if it was Snape.
Sirius shifted around until he was sitting cross-legged facing Harry. "Remember where your allies are, Pup. From the sounds of things, you've got a fair few. Keep making friends with all the other heirs, and the kids in other houses. I know I'm hardly one to talk, but all these inter-house rivalries have been going on far too long; it's fine when it's friendly, but the divide has gotten far too deep. If anyone can help reconcile that, it's your generation. Even if you have to do so in secret, keep them close. Especially Cissa's boy — he's a Black at heart, and once you've got a Black's loyalty you've got it for life."
"It feels like this is all so much bigger than us, Sirius," Harry murmured. "We're all just kids. None of us are even old enough to take our Wizengamot seats yet; how are we supposed to change the minds of half the wizarding world?" There were so many broken parts of wizarding society; things that had been allowed to fester since Voldemort's first rise to power, if not longer. The more Harry learnt, the more he realised how screwed up things had become. But half of the people in charge didn't seem to care; not when the system benefited them. They didn't want to fix it, they'd just figured out how to exploit it.
"One thing at a time, kiddo," Sirius said. "You're a determined little bugger, and I have every faith you'll succeed. We'll be right behind you every step of the way." He offered a grin, patting Harry's knee. "Remember, you don't have to change everything all at once. Just focus on getting through the school year in one piece for now, yeah? You'll have plenty of time for politics when you're older. Try and enjoy being a normal teenager for a bit longer."
He knew what Sirius was implying. He wasn't stupid; the adults had been shifty all summer, and the tattoo on Snape's arm — his Dark Mark — was more visible now than it had been before. Voldemort was gaining strength, and war would soon be upon them once more. Still, it was an absurd concept to Harry, with his previous Hogwarts track record. "When have I ever been a normal teenager?" he pointed out wryly. Sirius barked an unexpected laugh.
"You've got me there, kid. Well, normal teenagers should be in bed by this time. Actually, that's a lie, normal teenagers stay up all night getting into mischief," he added with a half-grimace, "but you've got a big day tomorrow, so you should get some sleep." He shuffled off the mattress, but leaned in to kiss Harry's hair. "I'll see you in the morning. I love you, Harry."
Harry would never get tired of hearing that. "I love you too, Sirius."
His godfather slipped quietly from the room, and Harry looked down at the mirror in his hands, sighing. That was one of his problems solved.
If only he had a hope of figuring out how to address the others.
.-.-.-.-.
Harry awoke with a gasp, hand flying up to his burning scar. What the hell was that all about?
It could have been a nightmare. But a nightmare had never made his scar burn like that. A nightmare had never felt so… real.
A shiver went down his spine. He couldn't even remember what really happened; he concentrated harder, trying to recall. It had been so vivid… there were two people he knew, and one he didn't… in a room he didn't recognise… a cold, high voice — Voldemort.
Flashes of the dream flew through his memory. Wormtail was there, they were talking about— about him. They had killed someone already, and they wanted him dead too.
Harry had no idea who the old man was, but his gut told him he was now dead. Except not, because it was a dream. Wasn't it?
He crawled out of bed, wondering if anyone else would be up that early. Snape was usually an early riser. To his surprise, Remus was the only one in the kitchen, his eyes still half-closed. "You're up early," he commented, then frowned when he got a better look at Harry. "Cub, are you alright?"
"I had a dream," Harry started shakily. "I… when I woke up, my scar was hurting. It's probably fine, right?"
The look on Remus' face suggested that it was not, in fact, fine.
"Tell me everything." Remus held out an arm, and Harry only hesitated for a moment before accepting the comfort offered, leaning into the man's embrace.
"I don't remember much, just that it was so vivid." He told Remus about the old muggle man, and Wormtail, and Voldemort. The more Harry spoke, the more Remus looked grave. "And then I woke up, and it was like someone had pressed a hot poker to my scar."
Remus put the back of his hand to Harry's forehead as if checking for fever, then ducked down to press a gentle kiss to the still aching scar. Harry tried not to flinch. No one else had really touched it before, certainly not with such tenderness. "This has never happened before? Dreams like this? Your scar hurting?" Harry shook his head, and Remus' frown deepened.
"What does it mean?"
"I'll be honest, Harry; I have no idea." Remus didn't look happy about it. "I'll do some research. You should write to Gorrak, at Gringotts — you said he noticed some dark magic around your scar when he scanned you? Perhaps the goblins will know more. For now… make sure to clear your mind and check your shields before you go to sleep at night. And if it happens again, tell us immediately, alright?"
"If what happens again?" It was Snape, striding into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower. Remus kept an arm around Harry as he informed the Slytherin what had happened, and Snape's lips pursed.
"I've never heard of this happening before. Then again, no one has survived the killing curse before. I'll look into it, Potter, and let you know if I find anything."
"Thank you," Harry said, reluctantly pulling away from Remus and heading to his usual seat. "Can we just let it go for now? There's nothing we can do about it, and I feel okay now. I just… I don't want to dwell on it when I have to leave this afternoon."
"Alright," Remus agreed. "But I'm telling Sirius tonight." Harry nodded; that was fine. He'd want Sirius to know anyway.
Snape would be taking him back to the Dursleys at half past three, ready for the Weasleys to arrive at five. Harry didn't want anything negative hanging over his last few hours with his family.
.-.-.
Returning to the Dursleys after spending so long at Seren Du was like waking up from an excellent dream to find yourself in a nightmare. Aunt Petunia's face went the colour of spoiled milk when she opened the door to them, and she glared. "I suppose this is about that letter?" she hissed, beckoning them into the house. Harry was confused for a minute, before he remembered what Ron had said in his letter; the Weasleys had sent something through the muggle post. He felt dread gathering in his gut, and couldn't stop the laugh that burst out at the sight of the envelope covered in stamps. The letter inside was a fairly polite request for Harry's company, but the way Petunia stared at it you'd have thought it was full of nothing but insults and curse words.
"They'll be coming to pick me up at five o'clock," Harry confirmed. "So I won't be here long."
"Perhaps you may want to persuade your husband to take you and your son out for dinner tonight, Petunia," Snape drawled pointedly. Petunia puffed up instinctually at being told what to do by a wizard, then seemed to realise the sense in his suggestion.
"It'll be hard trying to find a table anywhere decent at such short notice," she sniffed, then turned to Harry. "You'll be gone when we get back?" He nodded.
"Should be, yeah." He couldn't see the Weasleys wanting to stick around long.
"Fine. Just… stay up in your room until then." She seemed to realise she'd given Harry an order, and glanced fearfully at Snape for a second, but held her ground. Harry merely rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry, I have no desire to join you in the living room," he assured dryly. "I'll just leave my stuff here so it's ready when I go, shall I?" Severus resized Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage, and Harry leant them against the wall in the middle of the hallway. Petunia looked like she was about to have a fit.
Harry looked at Snape. To his utter bewilderment, he actually felt a pang of sadness at having to say goodbye to the abrasive man. He was going to miss him. "Thanks, Professor," he said somewhat awkwardly. "I'll see you at school."
"Do try and make it there in one piece," Snape replied dryly. Harry laughed.
"I'll try my best. Enjoy the rest of your summer." He wondered what it would be like at Seren Du without him. Quieter, probably. Snape would be glad for it.
Snape gave Petunia one last glare, then apparated away. Harry shared a long, tense look with his aunt. "I'll be upstairs. I'll, uh, see you later. Remember, they're coming at five."
As she went to go no doubt complain to her husband about that awful man bringing their equally awful nephew back, Harry trudged up the stairs and turned back to his room. He was a little surprised they hadn't turned it back into Dudley's second bedroom in his absence. He stood in the doorway, surveying the tiny space sadly. Now he knew what it was like to have a real bedroom, where he was allowed to actually decorate and own things and the furniture wasn't all broken hand-me-downs, he could hardly believe the Dursleys had put him in this and he'd been happy with it.
Anything was a step up from the cupboard, he supposed.
He'd brought a book with him to read while he waited, and he smiled slightly when, an hour later, Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs. "Boy! We're leaving. You'd better not be here when we get home. Don't eat anything out of the fridge." And then they were gone.
Harry moved downstairs, laughing to himself at the absurdity of reading a book about healing charms on the sofa in the living room of his relatives' house. If anyone had been home to see it, he would've been beaten for sure.
As five o'clock drew closer, Harry realised he didn't know how the Weasleys were getting there. They didn't have the car anymore; he and Ron had seen to that in second year. Perhaps Mr Weasley would just apparate in and pick him up, like Snape had done?
Five came and went. Harry glanced up at the clock every few pages, biting his lip worriedly. The Dursleys would probably stay out most of the evening, just in case, but if they didn't… He had written back to Ron, but what if it hadn't made it in time? What if they weren't coming after all?
He thought of the two-way mirror sitting inside his trunk, at the very top. He could call Sirius if no one came. Snape would come get him. Things would be fine.
At half past, he was just starting to get truly anxious, when there was a loud whooshing noise and then several bangs in quick succession. The little electric fireplace rattled. Harry's eyes went wide in a sort of horrified amusement as he realised what must have happened.
"Ouch — Fred, no, go back, there's been a mistake. Tell George not to — ow, George, no, go tell Ron, I—"
"Mr Weasley?" Harry called hesitantly, trying not to laugh.
"Harry? Harry, is that you? What happened? We seem to be stuck!" Mr Weasley shouted back, remarkably cheerful considering his predicament. Harry could hear fists hammering on the boards of the wall.
"The fireplace has been blocked up, you won't be able to get through there!" Harry said, raising his voice to be heard over the racket.
"What on earth would they block up the fireplace for?" Mr Weasley sounded baffled.
"They've got an electric fire!" Harry explained, and heard the man make a noise of excitement.
"Oh, with a plug! How fascinating. Hold on a minute, Harry, I'm trying to… yes, I think I'll have to. Stand back, Harry!"
Harry crossed to stand behind the sofa, and all of a sudden the wall exploded outwards in a barrage of rubble and plaster dust, the electric fireplace slamming into the opposite wall. Harry winced; he really hoped that was fixable. Out of the dust cloud stumbled Mr Weasley, the twins, and Ron.
"Hiya, Harry!" the twins greeted in cheerful unison, then glanced around the room. "Where are the muggles at?"
"They went out for dinner," Harry explained. Mr Weasley made a quietly disappointed sound. The twins, too, looked disappointed, but Harry suspected for an entirely different reason. "Shame, shame, I would've liked to meet them. Then again," Mr Weasley added, looking around at the destroyed living room, "perhaps it's, ah, for the best they weren't here."
Harry imagined what his uncle might have done in the face of such chaos and blatant magic, and was almost sad Snape had told them to leave.
"So this is a muggle house, is it? Goodness, look at all those ecklectric things! How marvellous!" Mr Weasley seemed to realise he wasn't alone, and smiled abashedly at Harry. "Ready to go, Harry? Where's your trunk?"
"It's in the hall," he said, turning to retrieve his things. When he returned, there was a fire in the grate.
"You boys go first, now. I'll stay back and, ah, clear up the mess," Mr Weasley said with a glance at the gaping hole in the wall. He pulled out a small pouch of floo powder. "Here you are, boys."
Harry let Ron and the twins go first, then stepped into the fire and spoke his destination, squeezing his eyes shut against the whirl of ash that followed. He stumbled out into the kitchen at the Burrow, stomach churning uncomfortably. Before he could properly catch his breath, he was wrapped up in a tight hug. "Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley fussed. "Welcome back. You're looking a little peaky, have you eaten yet?"
Harry wasn't sure how she could say he was 'peaky' when his skin was the darkest it had been in years, but he didn't question it. "Good to see you too, Mrs Weasley. I've already had lunch, thanks."
"Let him put his things away before you start feeding him, Mum," came a deep, amused voice. Harry glanced over at the kitchen table, where Ron and George were sat with two older redheads Harry had only ever seen pictures of. The two eldest Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie. "How's it going, Harry?" the one who had just spoken greeted, holding out a burn-scarred hand for Harry to shake. Charlie, the dragon tamer, was shorter than Harry expected, with incredibly muscular arms covered in tattoos and a face that was more freckles than lightly tanned skin.
The eldest brother, Bill, rounded the table to shake Harry's hand properly. Harry's throat went a little dry. Bill Weasley was tall and broad-shouldered, with long hair tied back in a ponytail and a fang earring dangling from one ear. He looked so cool. Certainly not what Harry expected from someone who worked for Gringotts. He grinned, blue eyes sparkling. "Nice to finally meet you, Harry. We've heard so much about you, after all." He winked. Harry's stomach filled with butterflies.
"Yeah, uh, hi," he croaked, then coughed. "Nice to meet you, too. I didn't realise you'd both be home."
"It's the Quidditch Cup Final!" Charlie pointed out. "No way we were gonna miss it."
Mr Weasley apparated into the kitchen with a pop, brushing plaster dust off his robes. "All sorted," he assured Harry. "Not a spot out of place."
As if summoned by all the noise, Hermione and Ginny wandered into the kitchen, stopping when they saw the new arrival. "Harry!" Hermione hugged him tightly, looking him over. "Wow! You look great!" Then she blushed. "You know what I mean. You look like you've been eating."
Harry was well aware of how he usually looked in the summers, and chuckled. "Thanks, Hermione."
"Ron, why don't you help Harry take his things up to your room," Mrs Weasley suggested. Fred reached out to grab Harry's trunk.
"We'll get it, Mum!" As he turned, something brightly wrapped fell out of his pocket; it looked like a sweet. He went wide-eyed and scrambled for it, but Mrs Weasley summoned it quickly.
"What's this?" she asked with eyebrows raised pointedly, a knowing look on her face.
"Oh, it's nothing," Fred said quickly.
"Just a sweet," George backed him up quickly, plucking it from his mother's fingers. "Come on, Harry, let's go." He grabbed Harry and practically dragged him from the kitchen, Hedwig's cage in hand. When they were halfway up the stairs, Harry gave them a curious look.
"What was that all about?"
The twins shook their heads, staying silent until they were in Ron's room with the door shut. Only then did George hold up the sweet with a smirk. "Shame your muggle cousin wasn't home, Harry. I'm sure he would've loved this," he said conspiratorially.
"Ton-Tongue Toffee," Fred explained. "We invented them. Makes your tongue keep growing; we tested one on Ron the other day, his got about four foot long before Mum came in and shrank it."
Harry snorted, imagining Dudley with an enormous tongue flopping out of his mouth. Oh, he would've loved to see that. "That's genius," he enthused, and both twins beamed.
"We've been inventing loads of stuff over the summer," George told him.
"We wanted to sell them at Hogwarts, but Mum found the order forms. She's been fuming ever since." Fred grimaced, then brightened. "Anyway, how've you been, young Harrikins? Everything alright with the muggles?" He looked Harry over in concern. Harry wished he could tell the boys the truth; maybe he'd ask Sirius about it. They could keep secrets with the best of them, and they'd already proven they could be trusted.
"I had a pretty good summer, actually. Been talking to some of my new friends," he added with a pointed glance. The twins caught on quickly.
"Excellent! Always great having more friends," Fred said with a wink. "Glad to hear you're doing alright. Now, we'd better get downstairs and help Mum with dinner, before I go blind from all this orange." He looked around the room disparagingly, and Harry laughed; Ron's room was a bit bright, with all its Chudley Cannons regalia. Harry much preferred the Harpies' colours of green and gold.
When they returned to the kitchen, Mrs Weasley was directing the kids around with the air of a military general. "Oh, good," she said when she spotted the three of them. "Harry, would you mind helping Ron with the cutlery? Fred, George, the salad is ready to go— oh NOT AGAIN!" She had reached for her wand on the table, only it had turned into a giant rubber mouse with a loud squeak. "BOYS!"
Fred and George shared an alarmed look, grabbed the salad bowl, and sprinted out into the garden. Mrs Weasley huffed, grabbing her real wand and flicking it towards the potatoes, which peeled themselves so violently they bounced off the ceiling. "Honestly, don't know where we went wrong with those two," she muttered to herself. "They'll be brought up in front of the Misuse of Magic Office before they're twenty."
Harry grabbed a handful of forks and slowly backed out of the kitchen, not wanting to get involved in that. Clearly the twins had been… busy this summer.
Outside, the two tables they were supposed to be setting were doing battle in mid air thanks to Bill and Charlie, crashing into each other violently overhead. Harry saw Crookshanks dart across the grass, in hot pursuit of a chubby little gnome. Ginny, Ron and the twins were cheering on the table battle, while Hermione looked torn between amusement and anxiety.
"Watch out, Harry!" Bill exclaimed as his table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and sent one of the legs flying. Harry ducked, coming up laughing. It was almost like being back with Sirius.
There was a clatter overhead, and suddenly Percy's head was sticking out of an upstairs window, looking quite cross. "Will you keep it down?" he called. "Some of us have work to be doing!"
"Sorry, Perce!" Charlie said, grinning. "Didn't mean to disrupt the cauldron bottoms!"
Percy scowled at him, slamming the window shut again. The two eldest Weasleys chuckled, but obligingly brought the tables down to settle where they were supposed to, reattaching the leg with a quick spell. Bill waved his wand, conjuring clean white tablecloths. Harry started setting cutlery out, and soon enough the table was set for eleven, and Mrs Weasley was directing several steaming dishes out with her wand.
Harry ended up seated between Hermione and Charlie, who quickly got Harry involved in a lively conversation about quidditch. "You should've seen the letter Ollie sent me when you joined the team," the redhead said, smirking. "I thought he was going to cry with joy. That year between me leaving and you starting was… not a good time for them." He popped a potato in his mouth. "I think you're the only reason he started speaking to me again at all, actually. When I graduated without leaving a good replacement behind, he swore I was dead to him."
Harry could absolutely see Oliver Wood doing such a thing.
"Y'know he's playing reserve for Puddlemere now?" Charlie continued, and Harry raised an eyebrow.
"He told me he was trying out, I didn't realise he got the spot. That's brilliant!" He made a mental note to send a letter to congratulate him. "Might have to start supporting Puddlemere, now."
Charlie snickered. "I dunno, at least let him make the main team first. Can't have it going to his head too quickly," he said with a wink. They tuned into the conversation opposite them, where Mrs Weasley seemed to be fixated on Bill's earring. "And your hair's getting silly again," she continued, fussing over the ponytail with a frown. "If you'd just let me give it a trim."
"I like it," Harry blurted. Immediately, he went bright red. "I mean, I think it looks cool."
"Yeah, it's nice. You're so old-fashioned, Mum," Ginny piped up from Bill's other side. Bill looked across at Harry and winked. Harry almost dropped his fork in his lap.
Down at the other end of the table, Ron and the twins were discussing the upcoming quidditch match. Ron started to regale Harry with a blow-by-blow of the previous cup matches, but Harry assured him he'd been listening on his Wireless to keep up with the scores. Ron looked a little put-out, but carried on arguing Bulgaria's chances with George, even when Charlie chimed in to point out how talented Ireland's chasers were. Hermione leaned in towards Harry, ducking her head.
"Have you heard from, y'know?" she asked pointedly. It took him a minute to realise she was talking abut Sirius. He stifled a smirk; if only she knew.
"Yeah. He's good, he's found somewhere safe to hide out." Somewhere amazing, somewhere Harry already missed desperately.
Not that it wasn't nice, being back at the Burrow, surrounded by his friends again and excited for the quidditch match. The chaos was very different to mealtimes at Seren Du, where it was mostly quiet conversation unless Sirius was in a particularly mischievous mood and then all of them were having to watch out for any number of bizarre spells on their food or cutlery.
Dinner faded into dessert, which faded into sitting in the garden having companionable conversation until the sun began to set, at which time Mrs Weasley stood up and began to stack dishes. "Oh, look at the time! You had all best go to bed, you've got an early start tomorrow! Harry, dear, I'm headed to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get everyone's school things, if you want to leave your list out tonight. There might not be time after the cup; the match went on for five days last time!"
Harry faltered, rushing to think of a quick excuse. "Oh, I already got my school things, Mrs Weasley," he said. "The Dursleys had a meeting in London a couple of weeks ago and they dropped me off. I didn't know you'd be coming to get me, and I didn't want to run out of time." That sounded reasonable enough. She didn't know the Dursleys well enough to know that they never, in a million years, would have willingly given Harry a ride to London to buy magic supplies. Ron and Hermione shot him odd looks, but luckily didn't say anything.
"Oh," Mrs Weasley deflated for a second, then continued clearing the table. "Not to worry, then. That's one less thing to worry about. I'll have to send your vault key back to Professor Dumbledore." That was muttered to herself as an afterthought, but Harry stiffened, his hands clenching under the table. Dumbledore still had his vault key? And was just sending it out however he pleased? Harry should have known.
He made a mental note to include a word about that in the letter he planned to write to Gorrak and Farlig about his scar, wondering if there was any way to stop people accessing his vaults without permission. Merlin only knew what the headmaster was doing with free access to Harry's family vaults.
Between the eleven of them they made short work of taking all the dishes back into the kitchen, and Harry was soon curled up on the cot bed in Ron's room, closing his eyes and trying not to feel strange about no longer being in his own bedroom. It was funny how quickly he'd gotten used to it. For once, he had somewhere that felt more like home than Hogwarts.